"A lot of crafty killers watch television and read books these days. Many are well versed in crime scene technology."
"True, but people think they know what to watch out for, and they still leave something at the scene we can pick up on. This guy left nothing. Not even a shoe print."
Dante leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Which means what, exactly?"
"I don't know, other than he knows what to do to not leave any evidence behind."
"Maybe he's done this before."
"I did a search on similar crimes and found nothing."
"Which doesn't mean your suspect hasn't killed before. He just hasn't killed in this way, right?"
She leaned back. "True. But how could we not know this guy was in the alley that night twelve years ago? Wouldn't we have seen him?"
"Lots of hiding places in that alley, Anna. You were in shock, and the guys and I were focused on two things--you and Maclin. There could have been an elephant in the alley and we wouldn't have noticed."
"You're probably right. Shit." She took a drink and set the bottle down on the table in front of her. "But why kill George?"
"I told you. It's a message. He's here and he knows what happened. Now he wants us to know. And he wants to hurt us--us being me and the other guys. George was our father--the closest thing to a father we had. Killing him hurt us."
Anna nodded, acknowledging the pain they must all be going through. The funeral had been brutal for all of them. She'd stayed in the back and watched them as they'd surrounded Ellen, watched their faces as the coffin was lowered into the ground. She'd felt the gut-wrenching sorrow emanating from all of them, especially from Ellen as she'd let tears fall from her cheeks and stood stoically at the grave site. It had been a horrible experience.
She shook off the memory and lifted her gaze to Dante. "But why wait twelve years to send his message? Why didn't he do it earlier?"
He shifted, drawing his knee onto the sofa. "I've been thinking about that. Maybe he was waiting for me to come back so we'd all be here."
And maybe Dante was the one who had set it all in motion. Maybe he was the killer.
She hated thinking it, but there it was.
No. He wouldn't do that to George. He'd loved him. She remembered him telling her that George was his father. He'd admired and respected him and he and the other guys had finally found a home--a family--with the Clemonses.
So she pondered his suggestion, the fact that all of them who had been in the alley that night were now back in town. "That's the only thing that does make sense. If he wants to show off--to show us that he knows--he had to do it in front of all of us and you weren't here. For a while Gabe wasn't here, either. It wasn't the right time."
"Yes."
"Which means it's someone local, someone who's been tracking our movements all these years. How would he even know who we are?"
"You know as well as I do, if you want to find out who people are, you can figure it out. You worked in the shop right there. Easy to backtrack from there."
This was all so surreal. "You're right. So now he's done it. What's going to be his next move?"
Dante dragged his hands through his hair. "Hell if I know. Maybe it's a cat-and-mouse game and he wants you to find him."
"Ugh. This is as bad as television."
"Ready for a beer now?"
"I'm on duty."
"I won't tell anyone."
She smiled. "No, thanks. I'm so tense I probably wouldn't stop at one, and it would be my luck I'd get called in by my captain, he'd smell alcohol on my breath and then there'd be hell to pay."
"I'm sure you wouldn't be the first detective to drink on the job."
"No, I wouldn't. But that's not who I am."
He leaned back and studied her. "Still a good girl, aren't you?"
She stood, her irritation spiking hot. "You don't know anything about me, Dante."
Dante loved seeing the flash of heat in Anna's cheeks. Even if he'd pissed her off, which he seemed to be able to do easily.
"I guess I don't. You never used to spark up as quick as you do now."
"You never used to irritate me as much as you do now."
He laughed. "Then sit down and tell me about yourself." He patted the sofa. "Sit."
Her jaw clenched. "I'm not a dog."
"Please."
She slid onto the sofa and grabbed the bottle of water, eyeing him warily. She had reason not to trust him. The circumstances of their first meeting after he'd gotten back hadn't been ideal. And she'd gone on a fishing expedition to find out more about him. Hadn't found anything, either.
She still didn't know it all.
"Tell me what happened after that night," he said.
"You mean after you left?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry I left you."
He wanted to say it over and over until she believed him, until she forgave him.
She shrugged. "No big deal. I handled it."
He could continue to apologize for that, but what would be the point? What was done was done and he couldn't change the past.
"Yeah, you did handle it. Look at you now."
Ignoring him, she said, "After that night I went on living just like normal. I went back to school and tried to pretend nothing had happened."
"That must have been hard."
"It was. The guys--Roman and Jeff--stuck by me, but I was so freaked out about someone connecting us to the murder in the alley that I distanced myself from them."
"But no one knew you were there."
"I was working that night, remember? The police questioned me. I told them I had closed up and hadn't heard anything out back."
Guilt hammered at him. It had been a mistake leaving. He could have waited awhile, could have argued harder with her father about leaving right away.
Yet he couldn't go back and change the past. His guilt would always be there, so he'd just have to live with it.
She had paused, so he nodded. "Go on."
"Anyway, after that I motored through classes, had no social life and went on to college where I majored in criminal justice. Then I became a cop."
"So you could take down bad guys like Tony Maclin."
"Something like that."
"Only I don't think it was that simple, was it?" He swept a stray hair away from her face. She stilled, her eyes so expressive, so wary. He wondered how badly that night had scarred her. "Did you get counseling after the attack?"
"Yes. I had no one to talk to and my dad felt inept about it, so he found someone for me to talk to. With those records being confidential I was protected and so were the rest of you. Plus I didn't elaborate much to the therapist, just said I had been jumped."
He hated that she couldn't even be honest in therapy. "I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault. You didn't attack me in the alley that night."
"But if I hadn't left, and if we had called the police, you wouldn't have had to bottle this up inside all these years. And now we have this..."
"I can deal with it, Dante."
"Can you?"
She laughed. "I'm stronger than you think, a lot stronger than I was that night. Being a cop requires you to toughen up. I've been shot at, kicked, slapped, punched and swiped at with a knife. Being a cop isn't easy."
"No, I don't imagine it is. But it still doesn't mean you should have had to endure the aftermath of that night alone."
"I wasn't alone. You all saved my life."
Then he ran. So did Gabe. And left Anna alone to pick up the pieces and hide their crime. Yeah, he was some savior.
"You don't always have to be tough." He leaned in and palmed the nape of her neck, massaging the tension he felt.
Her eyes widened, but it wasn't fear he saw there. "Yes, I do."
He decided to push his luck and drew her toward him. "It's okay to lean on someone else."
She reached out, touching his chest. She wasn't shoving him away, just resting her fingers there.
He should leave her alone. If he was a good guy, he'd do that.
He wasn't a good guy.
"I don't lean on anyone, Dante."
He gave her a devastating smile, then bent his lips to hers. "Try."
Ten
Anna gasped as Dante's mouth met hers. Her mind fired off a million reasons why this was wrong. She was on duty. Dante could be a killer. She was angry with him for leaving her.
His lips were soft as they slid across hers, making her forget all her objections. She encountered a solid wall of muscle as she braced her hands against his chest. It would be easy to push away, to break the kiss.
But how long had it been since she'd allowed a man to get this close?
Dante wasn't just any man, and it had been years since the last time she'd touched his lips, since the last time she'd felt his body against hers. Then they'd been kids. Now they were adults with adult passions and needs.
The last of her resistance melted away as she sagged against him. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her onto his lap where she felt just how much of a man he really was now, and how far out of her element she was. Yet she didn't want to stop, instead let her fingers dive into his hair as he eased back against the sofa and deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding between her lips and teeth.
She shivered at the intimacy of the contact, no longer needing to worry about pulling back because she was too young and they had to take precautions about going too far. She could go as far as she wanted to.
She always pushed men away. The act of sex, while not unpleasant, wasn't something she lingered on.
With Dante, she'd want to linger, to explore. She lifted her fingers to where their lips were connected, skimming them over his jaw, his neck, down to where the corded muscles of his shoulders exposed his sheer power.
Powerful men in intimate settings scared her.
He didn't.
She adjusted, sweeping one leg over his hip to straddle him, her mouth still latched onto his as passion exploded inside her. Dante gripped her hips and rocked her against his erection. She whimpered against his mouth and drove herself against the rock-hard evidence that his need was as great as hers.
The first thing that would have to go was her gun, followed shortly by her clothes. Too many clothes.
Her phone vibrated. Dante's fingers traveled up her rib cage, creating an even sweeter vibration along her nerve endings.
The pulse of her phone was incessant, dragging her away from the drugging euphoria of Dante's kiss. She pulled back and grabbed her phone out of her pocket, looked at the display.
"Damn." She pushed the button. "Detective Pallino."
She listened, clarity slicing through the sexual haze. "When?"
She looked over at Dante, whose lazy smile died as he read her expression. She slid off his lap, regret hollowing her belly as she caught the disheveled look of his hair and the ridge pressing incessantly against the zipper of his jeans.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Still trying to gather her wits and catch her breath, she put the phone in her pocket as she looked at Dante. "Another murder in the alley."
He was off the sofa in an instant, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Killed the same way as George?"
She nodded, tucking her shirt back into her pants.
"I'm coming with you." He grabbed his shoes.
She should say no, but he was a part of this, too, and she felt a bit raw at the news there'd been another murder. She wanted him there with her. "Okay."
They were on scene within fifteen minutes, the familiarity of the roped-off alley making her stomach roll. She had to hold it together. This was her case. She'd called Roman on the way over and he said he'd meet them there.
Gloved and their shoes covered, they moved toward the crime scene. The body was positioned on his back in the same location near the Dumpster. The victim looked like a businessman, had on a suit and nice shoes. His tie had been thrust to the side, his white shirt torn open and bloodied. From a distance she could already see his chest, see the carving of the heart. Her stomach rolled. He was beaten so badly his face was unrecognizable.
Blood was everywhere.
"This is worse than last time," she said.
Anna squatted and surveyed the wreckage that was once a human being. The M.E. was already on the scene.
"Same as the last one," Dr. Norton said. "Time of death was earlier tonight. Based on temperature and lividity I'd say maybe three or four hours ago."
She looked at her watch. It was three in the morning. So anywhere from 11:00 p.m. to midnight.
Anna reached into the victim's pocket and pulled out his wallet.
The familiar name and picture on the driver's license stopped her breath. Her heart pounded so hard she heard the mad rush of her blood in her ears.
"No. This can't be right." She looked at the face, unrecognizable because of the blood and swelling. His hair was so matted with blood she hadn't noticed the sandy coloring.
Dante dropped to his knees next to her. "What is it?"
She turned to him. "It's Jeff."
Dante frowned. "What? No, it's not."
Hands shaking, she handed him the driver's license.
Dante looked at the license, then the body. "That's Jeff?"
Anna bowed her head. "God, Dante." She didn't know what to do, what to say.
"It can't be."
"It is." The face was distorted and swollen, but it was Jeff's hair, his body.
"You know this vic?" Richard asked.
She nodded. "From high school."
Richard laid his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, Anna."
This changed everything. It was what she was afraid would happen when George had been found in the alley.
The murderer had started killing her guys.
She squeezed Jeff's arm. "I'm so sorry."
She hadn't jumped on this fast enough and now everyone was in danger. Her gaze lifted to Dante, his face filled with hard anger as he stared down at Jeff's body.
Her misery turned to fury. This had to stop. She had to hold it together. It was her job to be objective. She continued searching the body, so glad it wasn't Jeff's sweet face staring back at her. At least he didn't look like himself as she reached into his inner jacket pocket. When she pulled out the white bag, she cursed.
"Drugs," she said to Dante, who grimaced.
"Come on." Dante cast her a disbelieving look.
She bagged it and handed it over to the CSU team.
There was blood spatter around the body, this time the crime scene not so neat. Blood pooled under Jeff's head.
"His skull is likely fractured," Richard said. "I don't know if he was hit with something or if your killer pounded his head into the pavement. I'll be able to tell more once I autopsy him. Again, no gunshot wounds or other obvious signs of stabbings other than the carving here."
Pain racked her body. All she wanted to do was curl up and cry. Instead, she sucked it all inside, rose and finished working the scene. Because maybe this time there'd be some goddamn evidence they could use.
When Roman showed, Dante touched her arm. "I'll tell him."
She gave him a curt nod and went back to walking every square inch around the body with the forensics team. There had to be something here. No one was that good at hiding the evidence of his presence.
She lifted her head only when Roman cursed so loud several uniforms stopped and stared. He made eye contact with Anna, his face drawn with shock and sadness. She shook her head.
Not now. They could all fall apart later.
Roman came over to her, his face drawn, his skin pale. "What do we know?"
"Nothing. Same as last time. A lot of blood spatter, though. This time he was meaner."
Roman squatted and lifted the cover over Jeff's face.
Anna didn't want to look again. It wasn't Jeff anymore anyway.
"Jesus," Roman muttered. "We need to find out who did this."
"Do a ca
nvas around this area," she directed the uniforms, motioning to the people milling around the taped barrier at both ends of the alley. "They might be nothing more than gawkers, but they could be potential witnesses, too. And I want Forensics taking pictures of all those people. Our suspect could be lurking, getting off on revisiting the scene to watch the action."
They began to wrap Jeff for transport. She had just seen him. He had been laughing and joking with all of them at her house. Anna's heart clenched, the pain in her chest tightening to a near-unbearable level. Her scar throbbed and she rubbed at it with the heel of her hand.
You and me are one now, Jeff, in a way I never wanted.
Now there were two other people with matching scars like hers. And she was the only survivor.
She and one of the uniforms hit the other end of the alley to talk to the people there. No one saw anything, just happened to be leaving one of the bars when it closed and saw the police cars so came over to see what was going on. But they still took names and numbers to interview these people later. They might have been standing outside the club and seen whoever was in the alley. Often people saw something and didn't even realize what they'd seen was important.
Anna walked outside the alley and down the street, turning the corner to get a view of the buildings that fronted the alley. It was all corporate and banking on both sides, so unlikely anyone would be inside, but she wanted to know.
She motioned Roman over. "Let's find out what offices flank the alley. I want to know if anyone was pulling an all-nighter. Maybe looked down out their windows into the alley the nights of the murders. Maybe some corporate junkie on deadline."
"You got it." He laid his hands on her shoulders. "You gonna be okay?"
She lifted her gaze to his. "I'm so pissed right now I want to tear someone apart. But I'll be fine as long as I'm working. We just need to find out who's doing this."
He nodded, his expression grave. "We will, honey."
"We have to tell Ellen."
He closed his eyes, opened them again. "I hadn't thought about that. Want me to go with you?"
"No. Grab some uniforms, get into those office buildings and get that started. If we can pull a witness out of anyone in there, it could make this case. I'll go talk to Mrs. Clemons."
Dante came up behind Anna. "I'll go with her. I was just over there to visit Ellen."
Roman looked pained. "This is going to destroy her after just losing George."